Morgan: Protector of the Knights
by twilight-pixie
Summary: Morgan sees it as her duty to protect her friends and see that they get home safely. She's known them for 15 years and won't let them go on their last and most dangerous mission alone. (I am so bad at summaries, but if I said more, then there wouldn't be
1. Chapter 1

**Morgan**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Knig Arthur or any of the characters. I only own Morgan. Just so you know, she is not based on the Morgan of King Arthur mythology, only named after her. The other knights who are mentioned are from mythology, and I borrowed their names from there. Don't own them either.**

Chapter One

Morgan

I stood atop Hadrian's Wall and stared down at Badon's Hill, deep in undisturbed thought.

15 years, that was nearly half my lifetime. It didn't seem so long when I thought about it though. It didn't feel like very much time had passed at all since I'd first met Arthur and his knights. My friends.

A lot had happened in those years. So many had lost their lives. Ector, Bedivere, Pellinore, Kay, Gareth, and many others, men I had known well. There were so few knights left now. Too few.

Only seven remained. Only seven who would return home.

I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn't notice Lancelot come up behind me.

"Don't look so dismal," he said in my ear.

I jumped, and he laughed at me.

"You can come to Sarmatia with me if you'll miss me so much. I'd hate to think that I caused you such grief."

I slapped him good-naturedly. "It wasn't you I was thinking about, you ass."

He looked disappointed. "You mean you won't miss me?" he feigned hurt.

I laughed and kissed his cheek. "Of course I'll miss you. I just won't miss your constant flirting."

"You can't blame me for trying." He leaned against the battlements next to me and looked in the direction that I was looking. Then he turned to me and smirked slightly. "Who _were_ you thinking of if not me?"

With a sigh, I explained. For a moment he was somber. Then he brightened once more.

"Come have a drink," he suggested. "Celebrate with us."

I obliged, and soon I was quite drunk, and far happier than I had been so far that day.

After a little while, Lancelot got involved in a game, so I went to find the other knights to see what they were doing. I found Galahad and Gawain throwing knives at a board. Tristan was watching them silently.

I sat down next to him and said, "Do you really think they should be trusted with knives, as drunk as they are?"

"You can't really talk," he told me. "You're as drunk as them."

"Yes, but I'm not throwing sharp objects."

At that moment, Gawain noticed my presence. "Morgan!" he cried. "You give it a try!" He handed me a knife and pointed at the target.

I looked at Tristan. He rolled his eyes. I laughed and took the knife. "Oh, why not?" I asked no one in particular.

I threw the knife and missed the target completely. Gawain, Galahad, and I laughed loudly. Galahad threw another knife and did much better than me. It actually hit near the center of the board. It was quite remarkable, considering how drunk he was.

While we were admiring Galahad's shot, Tristan grabbed a knife and threw it. It struck the end of Galahad's knife and stuck there.

"Tristan," said Galahad, staring at the him.

"How do you do that?" Gawain asked incredulously.

"I aim for the middle," he explained through a bit of apple.

Gawain stared at the target a bit more, and we laughed at him. Galahad retrieved the knives and gave one to me.

"Have another go."

I threw the knife, and this time it hit the target. The edge of the target, granted, but the target nonetheless. The knights cheered for me, although the throw certainly deserved no applause. Laughing, I gave them each a kiss and collapsed onto a bench.

"You're a funny one Morgan," my sister Vanora said as she passed by. "Most women would rather have just one man and keep him to herself. You've bedded every man within a mile and you'll not settle with one."

I laughed. "Perhaps I just can't make up my mind," I teased as she walked away.

Gawain pulled me into his lap. "We like you just the way you are," he informed me.

"Yes," agreed Tristan, "Easy."

They laughed some more, and I acted indignant, but I didn't really care. It was the truth after all and I never denied it.

Bors was encouraging Vanora to sing. She was reluctant, but soon everyone was pleading. Finally, she consented and began to sing a song of home. It was a beautiful song. I was in awe of her. I can't sing to save my life. By the time she finished, everyone was touched. Galahad was nearly crying.

The spell was broken when Arthur arrived. The knights were happy to see him, and so was I, but I sensed something was wrong.

"What is it?" I asked him as he approached us.

"Knights," he addressed them, "Brothers in arms, your courage has been tested beyond all limits, but I must ask you now for one further trial."

"Drink," said Bors, as he mimed drinking.

"We must leave on a final mission for Rome before your freedom can be granted."

The knights laughed. They didn't think he was serious.

Arthur did not laugh, "Above the wall there lies a Roman family in need of rescue. They are trapped by Saxons. Our orders are to secure their safety."

"Let the Romans take care of their own," Bors sneered.

"Above the wall is Woad territory," said Gawain.

"Our duty to Rome," slurred Galahad, "If it was ever a duty, is done. Our pact with Rome is done."

"Every knight here has laid his life on the line for you," Bors told Arthur angrily. "For you. And now, instead of freedom you want more blood? Our blood? You think more of Roman blood than you do ours?"

"These are our orders. We leave at first light, and when you return your freedom will be waiting for you. A freedom you can embrace with-."

"I am a free man!" Bors cried, furious. "I will choose my own fate!"

"Yeah, yeah," said Tristan indifferently. "We've all got to die sometime. If it's death by a Saxon hand that frightens you, stay home."

"If you're so anxious to die you can die here!" cried Galahad angrily. I had to grab his arm to prevent him from hurting Tristan.

"Enough, enough," said Lancelot, also restraining him.

"Too many have died already," I said quietly. "Why do they send you on this mission now?"

Arthur looked at me sadly and said nothing.

"I've got something to live for!" Galahad shouted.

"The Romans have broken their word," said Dagonet calmly. "We have the word of Arthur. That is enough. I will prepare." He turned to go. "Bors are you coming?" he asked.

"Of course I'm coming! I can't let you go on your own! You'll all get killed!"

I couldn't help but smile a little.

"I'm just saying what you're all thinking!" he continued. Then he muttered, "Vanora will kill me."

_That she will,_ I thought, but I said nothing.

"And you Gawain?" Arthur asked.

"I'm with you," Gawain told him, "Galahad as well."

Galahad smiled sadly and laughed. Then he began to pour his ale out on the ground. He threw his tankard down in disgust and it shattered on the ground. He began to walk away.

I followed him. "It's not really so bad," I told him when we were alone.

"Not really - not really so bad?" he cried furiously.

"You'll make it home yet. This is just temporary. After waiting so long, a little longer shouldn't be so hard."

He shook his head. "You don't understand. The Romans lied. They promised us freedom, and instead we get sent off on another mission. We go tomorrow to our deaths."

I kissed him. "I will not let that happen."

---

The next morning found me half awake in Galahad's bed. He was up and getting dressed. I too got out of bed and found my clothes. Neither of us spoke. We both knew that what had happened between us that night had meant nothing. It never did. It was only my way of comforting him in time of need. He understood that about me.

All of them did.

Some women looked down on me for my ways, but they were, after all, _my_ ways, and I had no intentions of changing them anytime in the near future.

---

Galahad

I didn't ask where Morgan was going when she left my room. I didn't really want to know. I had an idea of what she was up to and I wanted to be able to claim innocence later.

I readied myself quickly and headed to the stables to prepare for the journey.

Everyone else was already there, preparing their horses. I readied my horse quickly, ignoring Bors' comments about why I was running late.

Jols arrived soon with provisions. He met my eyes as he passed me, and mouthed one word, "Morgan."

I had already known of course that she was up to no good, but Jols' warning served to clarify her plans. I remembered her saying, "I will not let that happen." Of course she would come along. She couldn't get into enough trouble at the wall, she had to come with us.

She entered the stable herself only a few minutes later, clad in men's clothes and mismatched armor. Some of the armor had been mine when I was younger, and I had given it to her when I'd outgrown it. Her sword had once belonged to a Woad that she had killed She'd kept the weapon as a prize from her first victory.

I shook my head when I saw her. "Not a good idea," I warned. Of course, I knew she wouldn't listen. She never did.

Morgan had fought beside us before, and she knew what she was getting herself into as well as we did. There was really no point in warning her. She knew what Arthur would say, and we all knew just what she would say as well. It always went the same, and usually ended with Morgan getting her own way.

As I predicted, she ignored me and went to her horse. He greeted her with a friendly nudge, and she patted his neck affectionately.

"Morgan." There was a stern tone in Arthur's voice. "You're not coming."

She turned around. "Arthur," she said in exactly the same tone. "You're not stopping me."

"It's too dangerous."

"And I'm too much of a stubborn ass to admit it, you've said so yourself."

"This time is different."

"I've fought beside you before, and you know I don't care how dangerous it is. Anyway, even if you do leave without me, which you won't, how hard do you really think it will be for me to catch you up?"

There was no point in arguing with her. Once Morgan had a plan, no one could get it out of her head, not with any sword, club, axe, or mace ever invented. The only options were to either give in and let her come along, or else to hit her on the head with a heavy object and leave her unconscious on the floor of the stable. We'd done both, but the former usually worked out more in our favor.

"Do you mind me asking _why_ you're so set on coming along on this suicide mission?" asked Lancelot.

"Someone's got to protect you. Anyway, I will not have you go off today and never return. If none of us survives this trip, then at least I will not have to bear the grief of losing you all. I will see you through this, your last mission, and I will see you return safely home. You will not stop me Arthur."

There was silence for a moment, then Arthur said, "Jols, you'd better get Morgan some provisions, it would appear she's forgotten them again."


	2. Chapter 2

**Note: Some of this is based on the movie novelization. I couldn't get a good sense of time passing from the movie, so I stole my sister's book. Also, I used the transcrpit from Fallen Knights, and feel obliged to thank whoever put it together (it's a cool site, you should check it out)**

**Another Note: (mostly for the benefit of Michaela90) Thanks for you insight. I know a little about the Morgan of King Arthur mythology, althought not enough to base my character upon her. If she's really similar, then that's an accident. Anyway, judging by what I know of Morgan, she's quite different from mine, so hopefully my Morgan ends up being a whole different character. I think she will. I guess it probably wasn't a good idea to name her after her, but I like the name, and I liked it in context, so...yeah. Please give me your thoughts on the subject after these next two chapters.**

Chapter Two

Morgan

We set off as soon as we were ready. Jols came along of course, as did Horton, a sniveling little Roman man who's only redeeming quality was that he didn't make any comments about me and my reputation. Not something you can say for most Romans.

---

During the next few days we stopped only to water the horses and let them rest. We rode at a fast pace, soon putting much distance between us and the wall. It was cold and rainy. All in all, it was a thoroughly miserable time.

"It's too damn cold," I muttered, shivering and drawing my cloak tighter around myself.

"_You're_ the one who insisted on coming," Arthur pointed out.

I didn't give him the satisfaction of an answer. I simply clenched my teeth to stop their chattering and rode on in silence.

---

Towards nightfall on our second day of riding, we had an encounter with the Woads, as we all knew we were bound to. A faint rustle in the treetops put us on guard.

"Woads," said Tristan quietly. "They're tracking us."

"Where?" Arthur asked.

"Everywhere."

We all tensed, waiting for the ambush that was soon to come. Sure enough, arrows soon blacked our path. We turned and tried another route, but it was hopeless, the Woads knew the woods better then we could ever hope to.

Finally, after several tries at escape, we were surrounded on all sides. We knew that we would have to fight. Arthur drew his sword, and we all did the same.

The attack we anticipated didn't come.

"What are you waiting for?" Gawain asked impatiently.

"A signal to attack, perhaps," I suggested.

A horn blew in the distance. The Woads looked uncertain for a moment, but then they reluctantly lowered their weapons and disappeared into the trees.

"What was that?" I wondered aloud.

"Why would they not attack?" Galahad asked Arthur.

"Merlin doesn't want us dead," Arthur answered.

Merlin, the leader of the Woads, the magician. I couldn't understand why he _wouldn't_ want us dead. The knights were, after all, his enemies and had killed many of his people. I knew that, given the opportunity, I would have killed him in a heartbeat. He'd had too many of my close friends killed.

---

Lancelot

We rode on. Once again, we only stopped when necessary. We rode through the night, sleeping on horseback when we could, although no one got much sleep.

It was very amusing to watch the Roman try to sleep in the saddle. It was obvious that he was unaccustomed to horses, and Jols had seen to it that he got a vicious beast with a terrible temper.

After watching and laughing at Horton for a little while, I rode up next to Morgan and decided to make conversation. When she was on a mission with us, she was a different person from the woman she was at the wall, and I was never entirely sure what to say. All the same, I decided to try. "Regretting coming along?" I asked her, smiling.

She mumbled something unintelligible and hit me. It took me a moment to understand, then I realized that she'd been asleep. As a means of apology, I took her reins in my hands to guide her horse while she rested.

She didn't take kindly to that, sitting up straight and snatching them away from me. "I can manage," she growled.

"Sorry," I said. And I was. I regretted waking her up in the first place.

---

The next day was as miserable as the previous ones, but at least we were not attacked by Woads or Saxons. After three days in the saddle without stopping except for short periods of time, we stopped for the night in a grove of trees.

The rain only got heavier as we sat huddled in our cloaks, wishing for a campfire. Of course, a fire was impossible in the pouring down rain, and our wishes were in vain.

We tried to make light of things. We talked and laughed. We complained about the weather, teased Bors, and contemplated to whom Vanora's children belonged. Annoyed with us, Bors made an excuse and left.

"You know," said Morgan, laughing a little. "It's a lucky thing I don't have any children or I would have found that whole conversation entirely offensive." She put on what she, no doubt, thought was an expression of insult. It looked to me like a pout.

"If you had children," Galahad pointed out, "You wouldn't be here listening to us."

"Oh yes. That's right. I'd be sitting at home with the little ones and let the lot of you have all the fun."

"Fun?" snorted Gawain. "You think this is fun?"

"Well, relatively. Have _you_ ever tried caring for 11 children?" she asked.

He looked horrified. "No," he replied cautiously.

"Then know this: those children are worse than the Woads and the Saxons put together. Drive you out of your mind they would. Vanora had me watch them for her once when she wasn't feeling well." She shuddered. "Never again."

"How come you don't have children?" I asked curiously.

She shrugged. "I don't really know. Perhaps I've got all of you to blame for it. Anyway, it looks like I never will. I'm barren I suppose"

"Do you regret it?" Galahad asked sympathetically.

She looked at him in disgust. "Did you hear _nothing _I just said? Besides, can you really see me as a mother?"

He looked thoughtful. "No...I suppose not. You're not really the motherly type."

"No indeed," she murmured.

---

Gawain

It wasn't very easy to sleep that night. If I hadn't been so damn tired, I probably wouldn't have gotten any sleep whatsoever.

By the next morning, the rain had stopped, but it was still damp and soggy. We continued on through increasing dreary terrain. Soon, there were no more flat plains, only gray, rocky hills.

After a time, our horses grew exhausted, and we dismounted to walk them. We trudged on for hours.

"Damn Romans," Morgan gasped breathlessly. "We wouldn't be here doing this if they had kept their word."

"I thought you said this was 'fun'," I remarked.

"I said 'relatively fun'. Compared to children, it's a picnic. However, in itself, it's a living hell."

"True enough. Just remember, you c_hose_ to come along. You could be at home right now. Warm and comfortable."

"Don't remind me," she grumbled.

"Why do you do this?" I asked.

"Do what?"

"Come along on a mission that's not your own. Risk your life for Rome when you have a choice. If I had a choice I wouldn't be here."

"I don't risk my life for Rome," she spat. "I risk my life for you."

"Do you really think we can't look after ourselves Morgan?"

"That's not it." She stared at the ground for a long moment. "You can't understand," she whispered.

"Not if you don't explain. Why do you-?"

She cut me off. "Not now," she said quietly.

I decided to let it rest. I knew I wouldn't get anything out of her that she didn't want me to know.

"I do this every time, you know," she said suddenly. "Decide to help, and end up miserable and swearing I'll never do it again."

"Well, this time you won't need to. This is the last time."

She looked thoughtful. "But what will I do with myself after this is over?"

I smiled as much as I could manage. "I've already told you. Come with me to Sarmatia."

I had expected her to laugh, or at least smile, but she didn't. She looked sad.

---

After hours walking up a rocky slope, we reached the top of the craggy mountain. From there we could see the Roman estate in the valley below. It was still many miles away, but at last it was within our sight.

For the first time since we'd left the wall, it seemed to me that the quest was not impossible. That we just might make it home alive. I certainly hoped so.

We remounted and began to ride toward the estate.

Morgan

I didn't feel like dealing with Romans. I think I would have killed the first one who opened his mouth. I didn't want anyone to get in trouble on my account, so I rode up next to Arthur to talk to him.

"Permission to go out scouting?" I asked.

"Tristan just left," he replied.

"I'll go another way. He's looking for Saxons. I'll keep a lookout for Woads."

He sighed. "Fine. Go. But be careful."

"Of course."

---

There were no Woads anywhere. I'd known that there wouldn't be. They would stay clear of the Saxons. My scouting mission was only an excuse to not have to face Romans and everything that they stood for. It was a cowardly thing to do, and I knew it. I didn't care.

I didn't go very far. Only far enough to satisfy myself that there was no immediate danger to myself or the knights. Then, after stalling for a good amount of time, I decided that I had no choice but to proceed towards the estate. I rode slowly, putting off as long as possible the inevitable meeting with the Romans. Finally, when I could put it off no longer, I urged my horse into a gallop.

As I rode, I could hear Saxon drums, and I knew that there wasn't much time.

**Thank you to: Mustang Gal, chiefhow, and Michaela90.**

**No thanks to: The Original Diva. I honestly don't mind constructive critisism, but I think it's really annoying when all a reviewer has to say is how horrible the story is. Perhaps if you told me what would make it better I would appreciate it a little more.**


	3. Chapter 3

Morgan

When I reached the estate, people were milling about everywhere, packing up their few belongings as if preparing for a journey. I got a few stares as I rode up in men's clothes and armor, but most everyone was too busy to pay me any attention.

A Roman mercenary drew his sword when he spotted me. "Who are you?" he asked.

"You can relax," I told him. "I'm with Arthur and the knights."

He looked doubtful, and didn't sheath his weapon.

I saw several of the knights standing by a stone building. By the look of it, the rest of them were in the building.

I called out to them, and Bors turned at the sound of my voice. He beckoned me, and I gave the Roman mercenary a look that dared him to stop me. He put away his weapon and let me pass.

"What is this?" I asked Bors. "You're wasting time. You should be leaving."

"Don't tell me," he muttered. "Arthur can't leave well enough alone. See all those people? They're coming along."

"What's this?" I asked, looking at the building.

"It's some sort of temple," said Galahad. "Smells awful."

"Smells dead," Bors remarked.

As he said the words, I caught a whiff of the smell they spoke of and nearly vomited. It was the foul stench of decaying bodies. I caught my breath and managed to gasp out, "That's no temple. It must be a tomb."

Just then, Arthur emerged from the building carrying a pale woman dressed in rags. Dagonet brought out a little boy. Arthur called for water, and Horton brought him some. He then laid the woman on the ground and helped her drink. She choked on the water but looked grateful all the same. Horton took the water to Dagonet for the boy.

Gawain pushed several monks down face first in the snow in front of him.

Both the young woman and the little boy were obviously weak and in pain. The child had a broken arm, as were the woman's fingers.

I noticed the blue tattoos on the woman's legs. Woad tattoos. I had pitied her, but when I saw who she was, I felt only hatred for her. It was hard for me to decide who I hated more, Romans or Woads.

Tristan noticed as well. "She's a Woad," he said quietly.

Arthur did not reply. Instead, he spoke to the woman. "I'm a Roman officer," he told her. "You're safe now."

I don't imagine that I would have found those words very comforting if I was her, but she seemed reassured. She touched his cloak without speaking.

"You're safe," he repeated.

"Stop what you are doing!" cried an angry voice. A short little Roman man approached us, looking livid.

"What is this madness?" demanded Arthur.

"They are all pagans here!" the man yelled furiously.

"So are we," Galahad informed him.

"They refuse to do the task God has set for them! They must die as an example!"

"You mean they refuse to be your serfs!" Arthur cried.

I began to realize what the building was. From the way everyone was talking, it seemed to be a prison of some sort. Except, it seemed that the only crime committed was to disobey the Roman.

I quite suddenly didn't care anymore that the woman was a Woad. The Romans were far worse anyway, I decided. Only the lowest of human beings would torture and kill people for disobeying him.

It was easier for the knights, I suppose, to watch without doing anything. They were foreigners after all. Not me. For my part, I had to try very hard to prevent myself from attacking him. These were _my_ people he was killing. Woad or not, the woman was a Briton, as was the little boy. And from the way they spoke, there were more, probably already dead.

A Roman woman knelt down beside the Woad and touched her gently. They seemed to know each other.

"You are a Roman," the man continued. "You understand. _And_ you are a Christian!" Then he noticed the Roman woman. "You!" he yelled. "You kept them alive!" He slapped her across the face.

I drew my sword and stepped forward, but Arthur was nearer. He punched the man, causing him to fall to the ground, nose bloody. Then he drew his sword and held it at the bastard's throat.

Some Roman mercenaries were ready to come to his aid, but he stopped them. "No, no! Stop!" He looked at Arthur with loathing in his eyes. "When we get to the wall you will be punished for this heresy," he sneered.

"Perhaps I should kill you now and seal my fate."

A dirty-looking monk spoke up. Speaking to no one in particular he murmured, "I was willing to die with them. Yes, to lead them to their rightful place. It is God's wish that these sinners be sacrificed. Only then can their souls be saved."

I still had my sword out. I wanted to kill the vile creature then and there, and I probably would have if Arthur hadn't spoken.

"Then I shall grant his wish," he said calmly. He turned to the knights, "Wall them back up."

"Arthur-" Tristan began.

"I said wall them up!" he shouted.

The serfs began to obey, forcing the monks into the building. The one began to shout, but no one paid him any mind.

---

We rode east, behind Saxons lines, through a mountain pass. It was hard going, but it was the only way. The Roman, Marius was his name, was so unbearable that I was certain that if none of the knights killed him that I would. He disapproved of me, and didn't bother to hide it. In fact, he took every possible opportunity to make comments about me when he knew I would overhear.

I restrained myself quite well however, and managed to keep from decapitating him on the spot.

After a while, he got so awful, that if I'd had to listen to one more of his nasty comments I think I would have ran him through without warning. So, when Arthur asked Tristan to ride ahead scouting, I jumped at the chance to get away.

"I'll go too," I offered. "With the Saxons so close no one should go off alone."

"Tristan can take care of himself," Arthur told me.

"I've no doubts, but I'll feel better knowing he's not alone."

"Morgan," he said slowly, "What is it with you? You want to come along, then you refuse to follow orders."

"I refuse to follow orders that might endanger my friends' lives. I'll obey you Arthur unless I think that there is a better way. In this case, you've no need for me here, and Tristan may need help. Let me go."

"Fine," he muttered. You'll do what you want to anyway. Go."

So I did.

Tristan

I was glad to have Morgan along, though I wouldn't have admitted it to the others. I liked Morgan. I think a part of me even loved her. She had been my friend for a long time. I had told her things I would never dare tell anyone else, and she had confided in me many things I know she would speak to no one else of. Part of me knew that she was unreachable, but the other part did not care.

I think we all loved her a little bit anyway. She liked to think that we didn't have any feelings for her, but she was wrong. It was because, not in spite of her aloofness, that we all felt for her as we did. She could try all she wanted, to mean nothing to us, but she would fail simply because she tried so hard.

But despite our close friendship, we hadn't spoken much in a while. There was an invisible wall between us, and I could do nothing to tear it down. In truth, I didn't want to. She had built it up, and I considered it her responsibility to tear it down.

We rode for a time, not speaking, watchful of every sound. All was quiet. I didn't want to be the one to break the silence. To remove the first brick in the wall. I had nothing to say anyhow. Finally, she spoke.

"I need to talk to you."

I turned to look at her, "Haven't heard that in a while," I said, perhaps a bit harshly.

She didn't respond. We rode side by side in silence for a few minutes longer.

"What happened?" I asked when I saw that she was not going to continue. "We used to be friends."

"We _are_ friends," she said, looking hurt.

"Not like we used to be."

She looked sad. "Things changed Tristan. _You_ changed."

"No Morgan. _You're_ the one who changed."

She seemed surprised. "Me?" she asked.

"You've changed since Gareth's death."

It was undeniable. Outwardly, she was the same as she had always been, but inwardly, she was changed, and only I seemed to notice. No one else knew her quite as well, so no one else could see the light gone from her eyes.

"Gawain's brother? He was my friend." She wouldn't meet my eyes.

"He was more than that. I saw. I saw the way you looked at him. I saw the way you were happiest around him. I saw your face when he died, Morgan. You looked like you had nothing left to live for."

"Maybe I didn't. Maybe when he died, he took my heart with him," she whispered.

"You changed that day. You lost your hope in life."

She shook her head. "It's not just me Tristan. You changed too. I don't know how or why, but you're different too."

"Maybe that's your fault.".

"Whatever I did, I'm sorry." She wasn't crying, but she looked as if her heart was breaking all over again. I reached out and touched her cheek. She looked up at me and a tear rolled down her face. I think that, for a moment, I saw something in her eyes. Something that I'd never seen before.

"Never lose your hope," I said quietly, brushing away the tear. Then, I'm not sure what possessed me to do it, I kissed her.

Thinking back on it now, I'm not even sure why I did it. It was a stupid thing to do, really. I'm not usually so impulsive, but the part of me that was in love with Morgan took control and I couldn't stop myself until it was too late.

Morgan was always kissing me. She was always kissing everyone. But this kiss was different, and she knew it. I cared for her no matter how hard she tried to prevent it, and that was a hard thing for her to accept.

Whatever I had seen in her eyes was gone. "No," she whispered, turning away from my kiss. "You're my _friend_, Tristan. Maybe my best friend But nothing more. I'm sorry." She looked even closer to tears than before, and I knew that she didn't want to hurt me. That was the last thing she wanted.

I didn't want to hurt her either. I already regretted the rash action. It was a stupid thing to think that Morgan, who was still in love with Gawain's dead brother, would love me. "So am I."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Then she said, "We should get back to scouting."

I cursed. I had forgotten about scouting. It was not like me. I readied my bow, and looked around, as if being extra watchful could make up for my stupidity.

"Nothing," she said quietly, looking around as well. Her voice was even. She was completely calm, as if nothing had happened. I knew that, in her mind, nothing _had_ happened.


End file.
